A growly noise slid up his throat.
Crazy nice.
I melted deeper into his arms, running my hands inside hiscut and over his pecs.
Also supernice.
“I see the answer to my question is yes,” he said.
What was I doing?
I halted the progress of my hands.
“I’m not intentionally turning you on,” I told him, and thatwas actually (kind of) true.
“Baby, watched you do your skip-jog to your car yesterdayand stood on the steps to a cop shop fighting back a hard-on.Essentially yougottabreathe in my vicinity and I’m struggling with aboner.”
I started giggling again.
“She thinks it’s funny,” he murmured.
“Maybe we should go inside,” I suggested.
“Definitely you should go inside and get me a beer.I’ll bein when I can walk in the door and my dick isn’t entering the house before me.”
And more giggles.
“Get used to that,” he ordered.
“What?”I asked, still laughing.
“A time in your life where you’ll spend a lot of itlaughing.”
Ohman.
I stopped laughing.
“Baby,” he whispered, “go get your man a beer.”
“You want Fat Tire, Coors, or Corona Light?”
His expression shifted like he was hiding something.
And what he was hiding was looking hurt.
“Fat Tire,” I said swiftly, having seen him drink that notonly at the Compound when I was with Shy, but also order it at Colombo’s in thetimes he was not there to have cannoli and coffee but there to have pizza atthe bar and I’d find times to break away and chat with him.
The veil drifted away and Snap was all good again.
It was in that moment I felt it imperative he knew.
So I told him.
“I was as into you as you were into me, Snapper.It was justall messed up then and it’s all messed up now.”
“Heavy shit tomorrow, honey,” he replied.
I nodded.
